Incident of Gunner Valley
by TheNightRunner
Summary: Anything can happen on a trail drive, Gil Favor knows that. But what happens when Rowdy brings back a shot-up boy who turns out to not be a boy after all? And what had been the reason for the attack? With three weeks to the nearest town, they are bound to find out sooner or later.
1. Chapter 1

**I present to you now my first ever Rawhide fanfic. I know that this fandom is very unfortunately small and ignored, but I hope that there are still people out there who love it as much as I do.**

 **For those of you who have watched every season and episode and expect me to have this set at a specific time frame... sorry, it's not. When reading this story, please keep your mind open and willing for the best experience. Thank you!**

 **Genres: Western, Action, Drama, Romance.**

 **Warnings: Minor violence, and blood.  
**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

 **~ NightRunner**

* * *

A man never knows what might happen on a cattle drive. Dangers are always out there, the possibilities endless. Sometimes there are moments when a man wonders if he'll even make it to the end of the trail. But every now and then, something happens that starts off looking bad, then takes a turn for the better. Whatever the case, my job is to make sure that the drive, cattle and men alike, make it through.

I'm Gil Favor, trail boss.

* * *

Rowdy Yates, ramrod. He was a fine young man who was well on his way to becoming a top-notch trail boss. But Gil knew that, even so, he was still just a boy. Rowdy sat on his horse, riding alongside the cattle under the mid-day sun. Dust and sweat stuck to his clothes and features, as was always the case with drovers. Yet he remained attractive. This became even more evident when he took off his hat to wipe his forehead, revealing a crown of thick brown hair that he always kept neat. His sharp green eyes showed character and intelligence as he carefully scanned the prairies around. His friends knew that he had a hot temper, just as well as they knew he had a heart of gold. He was a loyal person to have on your side, a man who could be just as gentle as he could rough.

But one of the most interesting things about Rowdy, Gil noted, was his uncanny way of finding trouble without trying. This was one of those days when Rowdy would prove just how accurate this observation was.

* * *

A small wood sat in the middle of the little green valley they were in, looking to be only about 2 acres in size. The small creek that ran through the land went straight through this wood. Gunner Valley was the name some of the people at the last town call it.

At the edge of the wood was a cabin peeking through the trees. Pete Nolan had seen it when he was scouting. It had seemed harmless enough, so he didn't think it necessary to bother the boss with it. There were just too many shacks across the country to go telling boss every time he came across one.

There did not seem to be any sign of life in the house, but Gil had not seen any point in crowding anyone if he was wrong. Thus, he ordered his men to keep the steers as far from the cabin as possible without driving the cattle up the hills. Gil's eyes wandered the land as he rode. He had heard that there was possibility of a rogue band of Indians around these parts. Pete had brought back word a few days ago that he had seen evidence of the natives, but nothing more. Gil still intended to be careful.

"Rowdy!" he called over the lowing of the cattle to his ramrod up ahead.

The younger man looked back to see his boss waving at him, and pulled his horse around. In no time, he was was beside Gil.

"Yeah, boss?"

Gil turned and nodded to the rear of the herd. "I want you to go back and keep and eye on things, make sure nobody's trying to sneak up on us from behind,"Favor replied,"This would be a bad place for us to get cornered."

"Sure thing, Mr. Favor,"Rowdy replied. He sent his horse forward with the flick of his heels, and was soon passing by the men riding drag. He kept a short distance behind them, keeping careful watch on his surroundings.

For the next half hour, nothing of interest happened. The cattle were nearly out of the valley now, and they would be out of this vulnerable spot. His eyes landed on the cabin one last time, before he turned to catch up with his herd. That was when a shot rang through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

It had come from the direction of the wood.

A shower of shots followed the first, but he did not seem to be the target.

 _What in tarnation could be going on?_

Just then, a boy came flying out of the back door of the cabin. He was running just as fast as he possibly could, reckless and desperate. It was a miracle in itself that his hat didn't come flying off. More shots were fired, landing the the feet of the kid. In return, the boy pulled out a revolver from his gun belt and shot right back, as best as he could without slowing down. And he was heading straight for Rowdy. He was obviously is some deep trouble, and Rowdy - being Rowdy - could not simply stand by. He dug his heels into his horse's flank and sent it galloping for the boy. As he came closer, he could see the desperation in the kid's eyes. But the look of desperation suddenly changed to shock.

The kid lurched forward, one knee failing and dropping to the ground. A red spot quickly grew at the lower right side of his shirt. The boy struggled to get back to his feet, pressing his left hand to his side. But the attempt to continue failed, and he fell back on his knees. His eyes were starting to look vacant now, either from pain or loss of blood, but they were still glued to Rowdy. He weakly raised his small hand for the drover.

With the danger so evident now, many men might have turned back. But Rowdy was more determined than ever. He stooped in his saddle and circled around the fallen boy, grabbing his hand and pulling him up into the saddle behind his as the horse turned back to make for the herd. The stranger slumped against Rowdy, weak. He pressed his right hand against his side, and with his left hand clung to the front of Rowdy's shirt. His breathing was shallow, barely even there.

"Don't worry, I got ya..." came Rowdy's soothing voice.

In response, he felt the grip on his shirt tighten.

Mr. Favor and Pete had heard the shots, and galloped to meet Rowdy as he was approaching the herd.

"What happened?" Pete asked, looking behind Rowdy to make sure he was being pursued. Seeing nothing, he turned his eyes to the injured boy.

"I don't know, but someone must have wanted him dead."

"Take him Wishbone," Gil ordered.

They followed Rowdy as he made his way to the point of the herd, where the wagon was bouncing along.

"Wishbone!" Rowdy called, slowing to match the wagon's pace,"I need your help."

"Ahw, what now..." Wishbone grumbled, but pulled the horses to a stop as soon as he was what was hanging on to Rowdy.

He hopped off the wagon. "Well, pull him down here! We cain't have him bleedin' ta death!"

Gil climbed off his horse and crossed over to Rowdy. He pulled the young boy off of Rowdy's horse, having to prying the bloody fingers from Rowdy's shirt before it could be accomplished.

"Stick around, Rowdy," Gil said as he carried the boy to the back of the wagon,"I think the kid might appreciate it."

The boy was almost completely unconscious as Gil laid him down in the wagon. His face, which showed darker features, looked soft and young, and looked to be around 12 years old. His pants had dirt and blood staining it in several places, and his shirt was just as bad. The hat he wore looked a bit too big for his head, but Gil didn't bother taking it off right this minute. There were other things that needed to be addressed right now.

"Alright, alright, gimme some room, now," Wishbone pushed through to climb into the wagon. He started gathering the things he would need.

"What happened out there, Rowdy?" Gil asked as they stepped to the side.

The young man shook his head. "I heard gunshots, and then kid came tearin' out of that cabin running for me. Whoever was in those woods shot him."

Gil rubbed his jaw, thinking hard as he stared down into the dirt.

Meanwhile, inside the wagon Wishbone had settled down beside the wounded guest, all the things he would need organized within reach. He had already cleaned his hands off with some liquor, and stared unbuttoning the boy's shirt from the bottom up. When he pulled the shirt open, however, he immediately closed it up again jerking his now wide eyes up to look ahead. Something akin to shock radiated from them.

He sat frozen for a moment, thinking on what to do. Well, he couldn't very well just let his patient bleed to death.

It was several minutes that Gil, Pete, and Rowdy waited outside, _discussing_ the whole matter. They stopped, however, when Wishbone peeked his head out of the wagon.

"Alright, I done all I can do," he said in that nearly grumbling voice that was to fond of using.

"Will he be alright?" Mr. Favor asked, stepping closer to the cook.

"Yeah, he'll be fine,"Wishbone replied, giving them all a scowl,"If by _he_ you mean she."

" _She_?" Gil repeated, as if Wishbone had just said something ludicrous. Already he was pushing the canvas of the wagon back to look in, with Pete and Rowdy right at his heels.

There was a moment of silence as they all looked at what lay in the wagon.

Wishbone had taken the hat off, allowing a long, dark-chocolate braid to fall out. He had also buttoned the shirt back up, but had kept it un-tucked so that he could get to the wound. What lay in the wagon was not an unconscious little boy, but an unconscious young woman.

Pete slowly pulled his hat off, followed soon Rowdy. All three of the men stood with a look of awe on their faces, while Wishbone simply sat there with the usual irritated expression. But Rowdy's surprise was one that included a small but growing smile in his eyes.

"She," he replied softly.


	2. Chapter 2

Gil Favor was a big man. He stood only a half inch shorter that Rowdy at 6'3" and a half, but had a noticeably heavier build than the ramrod. His dark hair was a big contrast to his light blue eyes, and his skin was tan from long hours in the sun. But it was not only his physical attributes that made him attractive to women. Many men are handsome, but few have as strong a character as did Gil Favor.

It had been two days since they had found the girl. Several times she had moved and moaned, a few times she even broke out into an alarming shiver, though they never allowed her to get cold. But never once had she quite broken through the wall of unconsciousness.

Gil had brought Pete, Rowdy, and some of his men back to the cabin to check everything out. There was not a person in sight – living, that is. But corpses had been abundant. It was then that they had found some clues to what had happened. Dead Indians lay where they had been shot on the outside of the cabin. Inside the cabin, however, they had found a dead man and woman. The man was white, about mid-forties, while the woman had been slightly younger. She was an Indian. But her clothes were those that a white woman would wear.

Pete suggested that the Indians had probably stopped fire when the found out a herd was coming through. Right now Gil rode at the point of the herd, still pondering what they had seen. But he did not have much time to continue doing so.

"Mr. Favor, Mr. Favor!" Gil pulled his horse back around at the sound of Wishbone's hollering. "She's havin' another spell, get Rowdy!"

Gil's eyes turned to the ramrod on the other side of the line of cattle. But Rowdy had already heard his name and seen Wishbone rushing into the back of the wagon. He was smart enough to put two and two together himself. Already he sending his horse into a gallop.

Why Wishbone thought that having Rowdy around when this happened was helpful, Gil didn't know, but he didn't question it just yet as he moved his own horse toward the wagon to see if he could be of assistance.

Wishbone wrung cold water from a cloth, and placed it on the troubled girl's forehead. This was the fourth time that she had one of these disturbing attacks. Wish figured it bad dreams, or something of the like. But whatever it was, it started off with just a bit of shivering. Then her muscles would tense, and she would sort of struggle. If it went on long enough she would be dripping sweat, and her lips would move silently.

It wasn't a pretty sight, but Wishbone had discovered something the first time it had happened.

The men had just bedded down for the night the first time she had started shivering. Wish had tried handling it quietly, but it eventually went on long enough that she started whimpering, and her jerking movements become audible.

Rowdy, who usually slept near the boss,had chosen to make his bed near the wagon, and had gotten up to see what was happening. He watched in silence for several moments, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"What's happening?" he had finally whispered to Wishbone, and like a switch, the shaking stopped.

Whatever had been ailing her looked to have left, and once again she looked like nothing more than a sleeping girl. It was at that point that Wishbone started suspecting that the girl may have, even in her state, developed an association between Rowdy and safety. The thought made Wish want to scowl and make some sort of snide remark about Rowdy being about as good as his name, but he didn't. The boy _had_ saved her, after all.

This theory seemed to be proven even more later that night when the spell came over her again.

Wish had considered the idea quietly while Rowdy had gotten up to watch. Neither of them had said a thing, but out of nowhere Rowdy reached out to place a hand on her forehead. She stilled immediately.

The third time had occurred just before the men went out from breakfast, and had gone similarly. She had eased at the sound of the ramrod's near voice.

By the time Gil had reached the wagon, the girl was covered in sweat and breathing hard as if there were about to be a shortage of air. She shifted restlessly, her face clearly distressed. All Gil could do was watch.

"Rowdy on his way?"Wishbone asked, dabbing a wet rag at her forehead.

"Well, yeah," Gil replied, his voice full of question,"But what's that got to d - "

"Well, what's taking the boy so long?" Wishbone exclaimed, not even bothering to allow the boss to finish.

This puzzled Gil, but now he saw Rowdy coming up. Only now the girl had started letting out whimpers, and her tossing and turning increased.

"Come here, boy!" Wishbone demanded, waving him over with annoyance.

Rowdy wasn't sure what he had to do with all of this, but he was worried about the girl, and glad to be near her. He came over to the wagon and looked in.

"Well? Climb on in, boy!"

Rowdy looked up at the cook, surprised. Usually Wishbone didn't want anyone in the wagon with him and a patient. But he did as told and climbed up. He settled by the girl's side, opposite of Wishbone.

"It's the worse 'un yet,"Wishbone shook his head,"If she don't come to soon enough..."

Rowdy didn't like the sounds of it, but looking down on the ailing girl he knew it was true. Blood seeped through the cloth bandages wrapped around her waist from her struggling. She'd already lost so much of it, every drop was vital.

They didn't even know her name.

But what Wishbone said next really threw the young man off.

"Alright, well you jest hold her hand now."

Rowdy jumped slightly, his eyes snapping up to the cook.

 _Had he heard right?_

Gil, who had been watching from the outside, had been caught unprepared as well.

 _What in the world did Wishbone have up his sleeve?_

But he kept his silence. The bearded man only scowled and rolled his eyes.

"Well? You heard me. Grab her hand! Real nice like."

Rowdy furrowed his brows, not really sure about all this. He looked over to the boss, not completely convinced that what he was being asked to do was right. Not that he saw anything wrong with holding a girl's hand, but it just seemed so out of character for Wishbone to ask such a thing. Like a trick. However, Gil gave the younger man a slight nod of the head, though the boss was still pretty skeptical about what was going on himself. Rowdy shrugged, but reached down to take the girl's warm hand.

The shaking lessened upon contact, but it did not stop.

"Is she gonna be alright?" Rowdy asked, trying to understand what was going on.

But he was relieved when the shivering ceased after he had finished speaking.

Gil's eyebrows raised, but Wishbone looked satisfied.

The cook slowly got up. He slowly turned his eyes to the boss, and now Gil started to understand a bit why Wishbone had been so intent on having Rowdy around.

"Yeah, I think she'll be fine,"Wishbone replied.

Rowdy was still having trouble piecing everything together. But he couldn't ask Wishbone, because he was already climbing out of the wagon and walking off.

"Say, what's all this about, anyway, boss?"he asked, glancing at Gil, before turning his eyes back down to the girl.

His thumb absently stroked the back of her hand. The trail boss stood there in silence for several more moments, watching the two.

Well, what could he honestly say to him?

"I'll tell ya when I'm sure myself," he finally replied. He gave his ramrod a nod, before leaving to go back to the herd.

* * *

 **I hope you liked the progression of the story so far! Please leave a review behind to make my day!**


	3. Chapter 3

Gil was looking down on the drive from the top of a hill later that day. This was good grass land, the reason they had not been pushing the cattle too hard. It seemed like there was a little creek at the bottom of every hill, and patches of trees offered man and steer alike relief from the sun.

As he watched, he noted each of them men riding, along with the bellowing of the animals. In all, they seemed content, and nothing seemed out of place. Best of all, not one sign of an Indian had been sighted.

Gil was just about to consider the good fortune he had when he saw a horse come into view, trailing behind the herd. He sat up straight in his saddle, raising his chin so that he could get a clearer view.

 _Strange..._

It didn't look like any of the horses they had in the remuda. The horse had no rider, or even a saddle for that matter. So where had it come from? Gil clicked his tongue a few times, sending his own horse down the hill toward the the brown tobaino paint.

If Gil had not known better, he would have thought the animal had a specific destination in mind by the way it looked like it knew where it was going. Up along the side of the cattle is trotted. The only time it changed pace was when a steer bolted from the herd, which the horse immediately turned back in.

So it was a cutting horse. But what was it doing out here without a rider?

Gil's sense of good fortune left him as he grew closer to the horse. Blue paint, the kind Indians used to decorate their horses with, was smeared on the animal as if someone had tried to paint it up. Unsuccessfully. This didn't look good, but Gil he tried to remind himself that the stallion could have traveled a good ways from wherever it had come. By the way it was sweating, Gil told himself, he must not have been too far off from the truth.

The trail boss was about to fall in beside the horse as it neared the wagons, but the horse turned in behind Wishbone's wagon and slowed to follow behind it.

Gil moved closer to the horse, and was quiet puzzled when the animal stuck it's brown-masked face into the back of the wagon to look in.

 _What in the world?_

Gil sure couldn't come up with an explanation. He watched with growing curiosity as the horse sniffed at the feet of the girl in the back of the wagon. Seeming to have been appeased, the horse backed off and continued to follow a few paces behind the wagon.

The dark haired man shook his head, but left the animal alone. Instead, he rode to the front of the wagon where Wishbone and Mushy sat.

"It looks like we've got ourselves another guest," Gil commented, nodding behind them.

The cook gave Gil an inquisitive look, before glancing back through the opening in the canvas of the wagon.

"Well, would you look at that!" Mushy said, pushing his hat back on his head slightly.

"Now where'n tarnation did that come from?" he eyed the horse as it walked patiently behind the wagon without so much as a lead.

Gil shrugged. "It came up trailing behind the herd, looks like it's been with Indians." He paused, glancing down at the girl. "It may have something to do with your patient."

Wishbone snorted. "Whall, I ain't never heard'a such a thing." He shook his head, giving Gil a stern look. "You know jest as well as I, how stupid them creatures are."

Gil raised his hands, giving another shrug. "Just a thought."

With that, he pulled his horse away to ride ahead once again, leaving Wishbone behind grumbling something about dumb animals.

* * *

Each of them men in the group had taken their turn studying the girl, memorizing what features they could of her during the calm hours when the herd was bedded down and the camp fire was going. Even the controlled Gil Favor had spent a good solid hour gazing down at her, at least once. And it was easy to see why; she was beautiful. That, and the fact that it had been weeks since the last time any of them had laid eyes on a woman.

Right now it was Pete Nolan looking down on her. With a boot propped up on one of the spokes of the wagon wheel and his arms resting on the side of the wagon, his chin lay on his crossed arms.

His brown eyes took her in, trying to construct some intelligent explanation for her past and her arrival. His guess that the shot-down couple in the cabin had been her parents seemed only elementary. He skin was tanner than was the case with most women, though light enough that she could have passed for a full white girl had it not been for the her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones. Many of her features were distinctly native-american, yet she clearly had plenty of white blood mixed in.

The braid that she had when they first discovered that she was, in fact, a she, had been taken down when Wishbone had insisted that they wash her face, hair, and feet.  
"She's a lady, she deserves that much," he had huffed.

But it had been Mushy who offered to comb her hair out.

"It's so long and pretty, it'd be a shame to let it get all tangled and matted," he reasoned with the cook.

Wishbone had narrowed his eyes at the young assistant, before finally responding.

"Well I'm glad to hear you come up with a good idea every once in a while. But don't get any other smart ideas and do somethin' stupid."

That was yesterday. And that was why right now her soft hair lay like a dark river flowing down over her shoulder. Pete noted that it started off dark, then got lighter towards the end. That hair has seen a lot of sun.

The holster and gun that she had worn was rolled up in the corner of the wagon next to her boots, where Wishbone had put them. Beside those were a knife, one that Wishbone had fussed at right properly when it fell out of her boot when he was pulling it off.

A smile formed on Pete's face as he looked down at the girl, thinking of all the fuss she had stirred up. And she wasn't even conscious.

But his thoughts were disturbed before the smile could last very long. He felt eyes intensely set on him. He turned to see Rowdy, sitting on a stump on the other side of the camp with a plate of stew on his lap. But he was not looking at his food. He was staring hard at Pete.

Rowdy had been keeping an eye on the girl, and keeping an eye on whoever it was that was around her. He knew that the men hadn't seen a girl in a good while, and probably didn't mean any harm. Yet he couldn't help but feel a sense of protection over her.

But it was Pete, for Pete's sake! He, certainly, was harmless.

Pete met Rowdy's gaze, but didn't seem threatened. He smirked, and raised and eyebrow at the younger man.

 _Oh, this ain't right._ Rowdy sighed, pressing his lips together and offering the scout an apologetic smile. He got to his feet, setting his plate to the side, and made his way over to the other side of the wagon. He moved around the paint horse that was still standing around, and leaned over the side of the wagon to check on the girl.

Still asleep.

Pete could see the boy was stricken, but he also knew that Rowdy was stricken by every woman he ever met. But Pete didn't tease him about it, as much as he would have liked to. Rowdy seemed to be more stressed than usual over this girl, which was understandable under the circumstances. So being the good friend that Pete was, he tried to think of something to, just maybe, take the ramrod's mind off of whatever was bothering him.

"You checked out that horse?" Pete asked casually, watching the boy settle before his eyes went back down to the girl.

Rowdy looked up briefly, before he turned his own gaze downward as well. "Yeah, I looked at it."

"Wha'da ya think?"

Rowdy shifted his weight, glancing over that the animal. The wrangler had not yet gotten around to wiping off the blue that smudged the horse's coat on several places. Not a bit of the paint had successfully been patterned in an artistic way. It was quiet literally just three blue blobs on a horse.

"I think the Indians have done better," he replied, the smallest of smiles threatening in his eyes.

Pete chuckled. "Sure have. But I think someone musta been givin'em trouble."

It was then that the wrangler, Jesús, came out with a wet rag and a halter, giving Pete and Rowdy something other than the girl to think about. Pete stayed were he was to watch, but Rowdy took a step away from the wagon to roll up a cigarette. He didn't want to smoke out the girl or anything.

They watched as Jesús put the halter on the paint horse with no trouble at all. But as soon as he lifted that rag, the horse jumped. The angry whinny attracted the attention of all the eyes in the camp.

"Hey, whoa..." the young Mexican tried soothing the animal, but it always started up again when he raised the rag. He finally decided to let it go for now, and set the cloth aside.

Rowdy chuckled, looking back at Pete as he started off after Jesús. "I guess I better go see if I can help."

Of course Wishbone had something to say about it.

Giving Jesús a critical sideways glance, he let out a snort and shook his head. "Green-thumb cain't even wipe a smudge off a horse..."

Pete let out a laugh and shook his head.

 _That Wishbone's a -_

But Pete froze when he looked back down at the girl, only to find that her eyes were open. Furthermore, she was looking right at him. Her expression was blank, and for a long moment they simply stared at each other.

"I hope you're not someone I need to shoot."

Pete straightened up, surprised. The words came out weak, in a voice low, yet feminine and melodic in tune - a contrast to her choice of words.

"Ah, well... no," he replied, taking off his hat.

"Good. Because I can't reach my gun." Now a small, playful smile curled the corners of her lips ever so slightly upward, melting the uncertain expression from Pete's face. He shook his head at her, but he was smiling, too.

"Well, it's good to finally meet you awake."

* * *

 **Well, I am ecstatic to say how pleased I am at how well this is hitting off! I thought I was going to be lucky to get one review, and then I got 4? You guys have made my week. Does this call for shout-outs, or does this call for shout-outs?**

 **Pointrider: My very first reviewer, thank you so much for your kind words!**

 **Cruelest Sea: Wonderful, and I do hope that you keep coming back!**

 **Kayley1979: It has been my pleasure writing this up. There are things coming up, though this chapter was not very eventful. And yes, Rowdy and Gil are both playing big parts in this story. In fact, you could say that they, Pete included, hold up this whole story. But we all know that Rowdy has a special way of being in the middle of it all.**

 **StormWarning27: I am so encouraged by those words! Well-written and in character. Well, I try at least! And I hope that I have continued to meet those standards in this chapter.**

 **So things have developed just a little bit more in this chapter, but there are still some things unexplained. A lot of things, actually. But please don't fret, for I intend to answer each and every one of those questions in the future.**

 **In the description I said that this was going to be 5 chapters at most... well, I may have to go a bit over. I had originally planned for this to be the introducing piece in a saga, which may still be how it works out. But anyway.**

 **Please leave reviews on how you like (or dislike) the way the story is progressing. I feed off of your words!**

 **Until next time,**

 **~ NightRunner**


	4. Chapter 4

The two pairs of smiling brown eyes held gazes with each other for a curious moment, before the girl broke it to raised herself up. She cringed, letting out a huff of pain as she propped an elbow under herself.

"Hey, you shouldn't be doing that," Pete told the girl in a low voice, worry in his face.

But she waved him off, shaking her head. "I'm tired of layin' down." She had to admit to herself, though, it really did hurt. Enough that she couldn't help furrowing her eyebrows and pressing her hand to the wound. The little concealed gun sticking her in the back didn't help much, either. Yet she still struggled up.

Pete shook his head, but hurried around to climb into the wagon beside her. "Here, let me help you..." She looked up at him gratefully, and he took her hand in his.

The first thing that struck him as he eased her up, was how warm her hands were. Certainly, they had seen work, and were by no means the softest woman's hands he had ever felt. Yet they were still tender and feminine, something that drove every girl-deprived drover at least a little wild, if only on the inside.

Similarly, the girl had noticed a few things about her helper as well. Sometimes all it takes is a simple touch to get a person's thoughts going in a certain direction. His hands were rough and calloused, and yet they felt so gentle and careful. Now that she thought about it, even his eyes testified to his gentleness. But oh! What was she doing? She hadn't even been awake for ten minutes!

"So how long have I been out?" She asked, quickly thinking of something relative to say. By now, she had been settled into a sitting position. A breath of relief passed through her lips as she relaxed back against the side of the wagon, releasing his hand.

Pete had noticed her flushing, but he thought it had just been because of the pain that moving after such a long time of being in one position would bring about. Or maybe because of the bullet wound she was clutching. He certainly never would have thought it was because of him.

"It'll be three days since you were brought here, come tomorrow," he answered. She replied with a slight nod, lowering her eyes to the floor of the wagon.

He continued sitting beside her, at a respectable distance of a few feet. He knew that she was probably thinking about the two left behind in the cabin right about now. The playfulness had left her expression, and though there were no tears, he could see the sadness around her eyes.

But like a the crack of a whip, she seemed to snap her attention away from her sorrow and direct it to her wound. That part of her shirt remained untucked, and she pulled it out of the way just enough to examine the bandages. Nolan was grateful that she had not started crying or something, because he would not have known what to do in such a case. But he also felt a bit awkward with her shirt up, though all he could see was the white bandaging around her side. He looked away, suddenly very interested in a supply box in the other corner of the wagon.

"So what's your name, miss?" He asked, not wanting the silence to stretch out too long and become hard to manage. Yes, he knew he could have called the others to come see her, but in all truth has was glad to just have a calm conversation with her. He knew that once the boys knew she was up, there would be no quiet until Mr. Favor put them all to bed. Literally.

She raised her eyes, seeming to have been brought back from a deep thought.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Ah, there was that smile again. "I'm Emily Carter. Nice to meet you."

She offered her hand, letting her shirt fall back down, much to Pete's appreciation.

And of course Pete couldn't help but return her smile. "I'm Pete Nolan. Nice to meet you, too, miss Carter." He took her hand, and they shook.

She looked like she would have went on, but some footsteps announced the approach of someone.

"Hey, Pete! That horse is really somthin'!" came an incoming voice,"He's comin' back over to the wagon."

Emily immediately straightened up, looking toward the opening of the wagon canvas anticipatively. She had recognized the voice, Pete could plainly see.

Maybe Wishbone was really on to something.

He smiled, and inwardly shook his head to himself. Once again, Rowdy seemed to have attracted himself a girl.

But just as Rowdy had said, a masked horse head peeked through the canvas. The girl's face lit up at the sight.

"Trigger..." she whispered, reaching a hand out to touch the horse's nose. The stallion met her half way, stretching his neck to reach her hand.

"Well, would you look at that," Pete looked from the horse to the girl,"He yours?"

"What?" Rowdy's nearing voice sounded amused, if slightly confused, but when he pulled the wagon flab back to look in he froze. Emily simply sat and looked up at him, just as delighted as he was surprised. A smile grew on her face, amused at his expression, but it was a warm and welcoming smile.

"Hello," she said. She had felt safe with Pete, but Rowdy's presence seemed to complete her sense of security.

Rowdy took his hat off, breaking into a somewhat goofy smile. "Well, uh... Hi."

* * *

It wasn't long before Pete and Rowdy came bustling over to Wishbone.

"Can I have some coffee?" Pete picked up a clean cup and held it out for Mushy to fill up.

"And I need a plate," Rowdy added, looking around for an unused plate. He found one and reached for it, only to have Wishbone smack his hand away.

"Why, you ain't even finished your first plate," he scolded,"Why should I give you another?"

Rowdy's eyes widened slightly, glancing over at Pete. "Well I, uh..."

 _Should he tell?_

Wishbone looked between the two men, suspicion growing. "Well? Spit it out!"

Pete didn't say anything, but let his gaze travel to the supply wagon where the girl was. The cook narrowed his eyes at them, and threw his dish cloth down onto the table.

Wordlessly, he walked briskly over to the wagon and looked in, the other two following behind. The girl was sitting there quietly, checking over her gun, but looked up at him when the curtain was pulled open.

Glancing from Pete, to Rowdy, to the newcomer, she was soon flashing that winning smile at older man, lowering her gun to her lap. "Good evening, Mister."

Wishbone blinked, then turned to the two men beside him. "Well? Go get her meal!" He took his hat off and beat the two men away with it, sending them away grumbling. "Them boys can jest be so ignernt sometimes," he apologized to the girl, shaking his head,"Ya gotta tell 'em what to do 'n how to do it, else they won't get nuthin' done."

Emily chuckled. "Well it's a good thing they got you around to keep 'em straight."

That sure brought a proud smile to Wishbone's lips. "You 'n I 'll get along just fine."

* * *

Mushy couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on that he didn't know about. He kept glancing over at the supply wagon as Pete and Rowdy gathered up grub.

"Say, has that girl woken up?" he asked them excitedly, speaking up as soon as the thought occurred to him.

The sound of men talking, of utensils scraping against plates, all of it stopped. All eyes turned to the three.

Rowdy scowled. "Mushy, you and your big mouth..." hissed under his breath.

Pete rolled his eyes. "Come on, Rowdy, bring that coffee on." He started heading for the supply wagon at a walk, but when he saw all the other men getting to their feet he picked up the pace. It was was close, but he managed to beat everyone else to the wagon.

The commotion that they made was really quiet impressive as they pressed in around Pete. He had to hold the plate up above-head so that he didn't spill the contents.

"Hey! Back off!" He protected that plate in the noblest manner, fighting back at the other pushy drovers. But it was not until Wishbone threw the canvas curtain back that the men quieted down to peek past the cook. But they were not about to get anywhere before they got a good scolding.

"Hey now! What d'ya think this here is, a show?" He yelled, grabbing the plate from Pete. Emily simply sat to the side, a sort of wide-eyed, awkward amusement on her face. "Now you better get and not bother the girl, or you won't get another decent meal 'til we get to Sedalia." He glared down at them, giving a single nod to finalize his words before handing the plate to the girl.

The men looked at each other, as if trying to decide if they were convinced or not. But now Rowdy had come for reinforcement, elbowing his way through the men and sloshing coffee everywhere.

"Alright, you _animals_ , get back!" he glowered with annoyance, finally breaking through the final line of men and stumbling to the wagon. But his sour expression immediately turned sweet as sugar in the face of the young woman as he handed her the coffee. "Here you go, miss Carter," he said in that soft tone he often couldn't help using with women,"Sorry, I spilled a bit."

Emily took it, giving a small laugh that seemed to say _'I'm not really sure if I should be laughing_.' But she nodded her head in gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. Yates." She then turned to Wishbone and Pete. "And thank you." The three men, particularly Wishbone and Rowdy, beamed.

The long-haired brunette took a sip of her coffee,trying to think of something to say to her audience. "Well, ah, I really don't mind the men, Mr. Wishbone," she said, giving the drovers a smile and nod,"I was actually a bit worried that they may not like having a girl around their work."

Wishbone looked at the men, then turned back to give the girl his " _are you kidding me_?" look. "Well, if they git ta botherin' you, just tell me 'n I'll be more'n happy to take care of 'em." The glare he gave the men made it clear to everyone that he wasn't just joking.

"I sure will," she replied, and took a bite of the food. "Mmm, this stew is delicious..."

And everything was alright again.

* * *

When Gil Favor got back from checking on the nighthawks, he had expected to find the men sitting around, chatting or something of the likes. What he had found, instead, was all 18 men, drovers, cook and cook's louse, gathered around on all sides of the supply wagon, along with that still paint-splattered horse. Chaps with boots at the bottom were all that could be seen of some, with the rest of their body's covered by the canvas curtain as they looked in.

"What's going on here?" A low, booming voice silenced the happy murmuring of the men.

The voice must have belonged to someone important, Emily decided, by the way the men straightened up and immediately stepped back away from the wagon. Rowdy, who had been happily listening with his chin resting in his palms, suddenly looked bewildered and somewhat guilty. Even Pete had been caught off guard.

The men moved out of the way, allowing Emily to see the tall cowboy who she had not yet seen. He had looked annoyed at first, but when he saw her, his annoyance was dropped.

"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, taking off his hat. He stepped closer to the wagon. Closer to the girl.

"No, not at all," She gave a friendly smile. The fire light flickered across the handsome face, and she suddenly realized how dark it was. She had lost track of time! "Oh, I'm sorry," she said suddenly, turning back to the man who was obviously the big boss, "I hope I haven't kept your men awake too late."

Gil thought about it, but slowly started to shake his head as a smile made its way to his lips. "Well, it is getting late... But I can't blame 'em for being curious," he admitted.

"Well, I do suppose we should all be getting to bed now," she replied.

A groan could be heard from one in the group of men, but Gil didn't quiet catch who the offending person had been so he ignored it for now. "I suppose you're right, miss...?"

"Carter, Emily Carter," she finish quickly for him," And I suppose you must be trail boss?"

"Gil Favor, miss Carter," he replied with a nod.

 _Could it just be him, or did she seem to perk up a bit when he said his name?_

But maybe he had only been seeing things, because the spark was gone just as quickly is it seemed to have come.

"Well, I would like to thank you for your hospitality. Your men have made me feel more than welcome here."

Gil turned to the men, raising and eyebrow in accusation. This was answered by a sheepish grin from Rowdy and a few of the other men. "I'm sure they have," he turned his eyes back to the girl, holding back a knowing smile,"Good night, miss Carter."

"Good night, Mr. Favor," she replied, her voice softening. But then turning to the rest of the men,"Good night, boys!" She gave them a nod and a cheerful smile.

She was answered with a slough of enthusiastically replied "good night" 's, and them men all began to disperse.

Yet she could not help but allow her eyes to linger on the leaving trail boss. She was still young, and had never really been in love before. But as her heart sped up and her face grew warm, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe this was what being in love was like.

 _Emily, No!_ She internally slapped herself for her wandering thoughts.

She had been so fixed on the dark-haired man that she hadn't even noticed the pain that was once again throbbing in her side. Maybe after carrying the pain for so long, it was simply part of her subconscious instinct that had made her press her hand to her side. But when she finally did tear her eyes away from the man, she was all too aware of the pain.

Furrowing her eyebrows, she pulled her hand away from her side and pulled her shirt up. Her wound had started bleeding again. She sighed, dragging herself back to the bed that had been hers for the last two days and laid down in it.

Pressing her hand to her side, she knew that the best way to ignore the pain at this point was to simply think of something else. Fortunately, she had no problem coming up with something, or rather, someone, to occupy her thoughts.

When she closed her eyes, it was a low, slow voiced that was echoing through her head as she fell asleep.

It was her voice, though, that equally plagued the dreams of certain men in the camp.

* * *

 **Once again, I would like to thank my reviewers!**

 **Caro: I intend to up the action in the future of this story, so not to worry, my friend.**

 **StormWarning27: I am glad that you think I pulled it off so well! Wishbone certainly adds a lot of flavour to the Favor group, I must say, and it would be a crime to downplay him.**

 **I am debating on if I should stop this first part of the story in the next chapter(or two, or three), and then start the next part to it, or if I should dawdle a little bit more. My intentions were for this first part to set up the story, while the next stories will develop the characters and such.**

 **Also, you know that there just has to be some romance eventually. I am interested in knowing who you, my beloved readers, are pulling for.**

 **Please leave a review!**

 **Until next time,**

 **~ NightRunner.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Now, you don't have to do that," Wishbone glanced back into the bouncing wagon bed, for the umpteenth time in the past few hours.

"No, really,"Emily replied,"I don't mind at all!"

"Well, I sure appreciate it, miss Carter,"Mushy said, giving her a goofy smile.

Neither of the younger people heard the, "oh, shut up, Mushy," that Wishbone grumbled under his breath. He was, however, glad to have the girl around. Noon meal would get prepared a lot faster with her around helping.

Emily and mushy continued peeling the potatoes together, sitting side by side. Her horse followed along behind them, and every now and then the pair would slip a potato peel to him.

"Say, do you know any other stories?" Mushy asked, looking up from his knife and potato to the girl. He had not been distracted for long, but it was long enough for them to hit a bump and cause his knife to slip. "Ouch!" he yelped, pulling his finger back.

"What now?" Wishbone groaned and looked back at them again. But Emily had already put her things down and had Mushy's hand in her's. She examined the wound, before looking up at the young man with a smirk.

"It's not bad, you'll make it." She grabbed up a cloth that was laying around. Pressing it to the small cut in his left pointer finger, the bleeding soon stopped. Mushy was just glad for the attention.

 _She's such a nice girl. Even nicer than Mr. Wishbone!_

"Gee, thanks, miss Carter!"

She grinned up at him. After she had done what she could, they both resumed their work. She pressed her lips together thoughtfully.

"Hmm, let's see... What kind of story ya want?"

"Another gunslinger story," he replied without hesitation. She had already told him some tales about a mysterious bounty hunter.

Emily chuckled, shaking her head. "You've already heard three, don't you get tired of 'em?"

"Oh, no miss Carter! I think they're swell."

"Well, I - " Emily was cut off by the sound of a familiar low voice.

"Hey, Wishbone!" Gil called, trotting over to them,"We're makin' camp here."

It was just a moment later that the wagon turned in under a nice shade tree, and then pulled to a stop.

"I hope you won't mind waiting a bit to tell yer story, miss?" Wishbone climbed down from his seat and walked over to the back of the wagon.

"'Course not, Mr. Wishbone," Emily replied. She gave Mushy a firm pat on the shoulder, before he climbed down to the get the camp ready.

"Hey, now you stay right there, young lady!" Wishbone had been just about to go off for fire wood when he saw the girl trying to climb down out of the wagon.

"But I'm tired of sittin'. I've been sittin' 'round for three days 'n my back's stiff," she complained. By now, the three wagon riders were pretty well acquainted with each other, enough that Emily didn't mind whining at him and Wishbone didn't mind lecturing her.

"Now you listen here," he told her, shaking a finger,"If you wanna get better, you better do as I say 'n stay put."

It was at this point that she saw reason would get her nowhere. Not with Wishbone, at least. So now she resorted to the puppy-dog eyes.

"Please?"

He eyed her, his stern look slowly melting into a scowl. "Oh, fine." He came closer to help her slide down gently. "There. How do you feel?"

She rested her hand on her hurt side, but took a few steps. "Great, I feel great." She nodded her thanks to him.

"Bleedin'?" he asked, still not quiet convinced.

She pulled her shirt up a bit, checking the bandaging for several moments, before shaking her head. "Nope."

"Well, alright, then. But you jest take it easy, now." He gave her a firm look, then bustled off.

Emily watched him disappear down the hill, then moved toward Mushy. "Need help?"

* * *

Rowdy liked girls. _Really_ liked girls. The other men knew it, and he on occasion even admitted it to himself. But there was one thing that he simply could not bring himself to acknowledge on this occasion. He was jealous.

He had sat next to Emily while they ate breakfast, but Mushy had beaten him to bringing her the food and coffee.

He had ridden by the wagon several times to say hi to the girl, only to find her in a hearty conversation with that cook's louse each and every time. Sure, she had greeted him warmly when she noticed him there, but still.

She seemed awfully friendly with that Mushy.

And now, as they came in for noon meal, there she was again. Sitting with Mushy on the wagon and laughing merrily about something one of them said. It sickened him.

Emily, on the other hand, turned around when she heard the sound of the men's horses coming in.

"Hey boys, Mr. Yates!" she gave them - but especially him, he liked to think - a smile that nearly forced him out of his bad mood. He was pleased that he had been the only person she had mentioned by name.

But it was when she got up and came to greet them that he forgot all about his grudge with Mushy.

"Hey, you look awful good today!" Jim Quince beat him to it, much to Rowdy's annoyance.

"Why, thank you!"

The men dismounted, and were soon surrounding her.

"Why don't you sit down?" one of the men said.

"Oh, actually I -"

"Would you like me to get you some coffee?" another asked.

"Well, I just - "

"No, don't sit there. It's more comfortable over here!" yet another man said.

In all the excitement, Rowdy had been shoved to the back of the group, away from the girl. He was just about to start yelling at everyone when he felt someone shove by him, elbowing him away pretty hard.

"Hey!" he growled, about to blow up until he saw who it was. It was then that he decided to shut his mouth and back off.

There were more yelps and protests as Gil pushed his way through to the overwhelmed girl, until he was standing right beside her. Hush fell over the men, and Emily finally got a little bit of breathing room again. She looked up at the trail boss beside her, who was glaring down his men. He certainly did not look pleased.

"Can't you see you're crowding her?" Gil asked, anger in his voice. He looked around at each of the drovers, who all of a sudden looked, on the whole, self-conscious to say the least. "Do you really think the young lady appreciates a bunch of sweaty drovers pressing into her on every side?" He scowled, letting out an exasperated snort.

The men looked at each other, now in full-out embarrassment. It occurred to them now what they must smell like to an outsider. Emily hated to see them so, turning away in scorn. Gil felt a little bad for pounding them so hard, now that he saw their reaction. They had not meant any harm, after all. Wishbone, who would have gotten away with such a stunt, was even looking at him with a disapproving expression. Certainly, he knew at that moment that the men would always be skiddish around the girl unless he could fix this.

Gil pressed his lips together, his expression softening as he tried to think of something to say that could lighten the mood again. Fortunately, someone went ahead and did that for him.

"It reminds me of my father," the words rolled from her lips suddenly, as if she wanted to get them out before someone could stop her.

Gil's eyes turned to her, along with the eyes of everyone else in the camp. She looked at each face, regaining her composure to go on.

"What I mean is, my father worked with cattle," she continued, nodding in the direction of the beeves. "So... " she spoke in a delicate voice, a small but knowing smile showing as she gave off a little shrug,"it might bother some people – but it doesn't bother me. Really."

Gil glanced around at the faces of him men. It looked like she had healed at least some of their confidence. His eyes followed her as she turned and stepped toward the fire and picked up the coffee kettle.

"Now, can I get you boys some coffee?" And the men felt just a little bit better.

They did not crowd into her as they had done earlier, but the timidness with which they approach her was such that she knew, and Gil knew, things had gone for the best. Maybe they could even act at ease around her, once this last confrontation had slipped from their minds.

"Thanks," Joe Scarlett nodded his appreciation as she poured him a cup of hot, black coffee.

A buckskin cowpony slowly moved closer to the camp, out of the shrubbery a little ways beyond the wagon from which it had been standing previously. The rider, a wavy haired cowboy.

Pete had been there long enough to see the important parts of the scene play out.

Climbing down from his horse, he was soon tying it up with the remuda and making his way to the camp as if he hadn't seen anything.

Rowdy was once again sitting at her feet, for once the quickest of his men to forgive and forget.

"So, you say your father was a rancher?" the ramrod was asking.

"Oh, yes," Emily replied,"And a drover on occasion, too." She was pouring another cup as she spoke. But pausing, her eyes looked around until they found the trail boss, standing off to the side while he listened. She raised the cup toward him, offering it.

Gil had not actually been very thirsty, but the men didn't have to know that as he came to accept the coffee and return her smile.

"See, he bought cattle from the southern towns cheap, fattened 'em up at our valley, then sold 'em up in Sedalia or Abilene, whichever had best goin' prices..." she sounded slightly occupied as she poured one last cup of joe upon seeing Pete return. "It wasn't quiet as profitable as bringin' 'em up all the way from Texas, but then the journey was a lot quicker, too."

Sounded reasonable to Gil.

Pete came to sit down around her with the others, taking the cup she had poured for him gratefully.

"Didn't you 'n your mother get... well, scared out in that valley?" Pete asked, sipping the cup before going on,"I mean, it's a good ride from any town, from what I saw."

But Emily shook her head, an almost smug grin flashing at them.

"Not a'tall. Mom went ahead to wherever we were takin' the beeves and got things in order for the arrival. 'Course she did some shopping, too. And daddy kept me with him."

"On the drive?" Jim Quince piped up incredulously.

She chuckled, shrugging. "I guess it's - "

"You callin' her a liar?" Teddy threw an accusing look at Jim, cutting through Emily's sentence.

That boy had always been a bit of a troublemaker. Gil guessed that with a girl around now, he had all that much more to prove.  
The trail boss let out a quiet sigh, and took a step toward the men to pull them off of each other when the punches started flying. The way Jim looked, the fight would start soon.

"No! I was jest - " Jim narrowed his eyes and started to stand up.

"Oh, no, no..." the girl said quickly, placing a hand on an arm of both men, which brought Jim back down to a sitting position, turning his eyes from Teddy to her. "It's pretty unorthodox, I'll admit. But the runs were only a few weeks, and we had a good crew."

She let her hands linger on the men's arms until they had simmered down a bit, before clasping them together in her lap.

She looked down at the fire, contemplating the past.

"I guess it would've been different if I'd had a brother. I probably would have gone on with mom. But then maybe he still would have treated me the same, anyway."

"So... he treated you like a son?" Rowdy ventured, though he regretted speaking up when he saw the look Wishbone shot him. _Okay_ , _maybe that hadn't been appropriate..._

But Emily just tilted her head, a twinkle in her eyes at the beautiful memories.

"Oh, sometimes it seemed that way," she replied,"But I know he never forgot that I was a girl."

She looked down at her jeans, picking at a speck of dirt on her knee. "Actually, he loved to see me dressed up. The first thing he always did when we got to the end of the trail was take me shopping. Dresses, ribbons, shoes, everything. Anything I wanted..."

Pete looked over to see Rowdy just as starry eyed as she was. Doubtless, she was picturing herself in a beautiful dress – and Rowdy was doing the exact same thing.

But it was then that Pete remembered something. He got to his feet, giving her a nod to go on when she looked up at him.

She went on talking about what cities she had been to with her family, something that may not have usually interested the men very much. But it seemed to Pete that anything she had to say interested them.

He shook his head, though he knew he was just as guilty. Walking over to his horse, he opened up the saddle bag. He reached in, retrieving a fancy gun and a necklace.

Holding one in each hand, he returned to the camp fire, coming up behind the girl.

" - be afraid of guns', I told 'em, 'It's the bullets ya gotta worry about.' "

The men laughed at her joke, maybe because it was cute to see a girl joking about guns, maybe because the joke was actually funny. Maybe both. Even Gil was over there trying to hold back a smile. But as Pete came to sit down beside her, merry countenance slowly faded when she caught sight of what he was holding.

The silver gun glistened in the sunlight as he handed it over to her.

"They, um..." he pressed his lips together, lowering his eyes for a moment before he could look back up into her gaze. They looked pained. "I thought you might want it... I guess I just forgot to give 'em to ya earlier..."

She slowly reached out to take the gun, gripping the silvery handle and turning it over in her hand. Her eyes looked over the familiar ridges and markings. She raised the butt of the gun, finding the name engraved in fancy letters. They were such tiny letters, which had been so well camouflaged with the other markings, that only a good pair of eyes or a person who had already known it was there could have found it. An angry bull of copper was what decoration most stuck out, melted into the side of the grips.

Pete waited a moment, giving her some time before he showed what he had in his other hand. "This, too..."

She turned back to the scout, or rather, to what he had in his hand. From his hand she raised her eyes to his, before taking the silver ornament.

The chain was silver, as was the small charm that had been cut into the likeness of an Indian's arrowhead. It was beautiful, but even a man wouldn't be ashamed of wearing such a charm.

Her lips parted, letting out a quiet, but nonetheless pained breath. Silence ruled throughout the camp for what could have been a minute or an eternity. It was not broken until the trail boss finally jumped the gun.

"Miss Carter..." Gil now stepped closer, taking his time as he took a seat on a box opposite of her. She turned her full attention to him, the seriousness in his voice matching the seriousness in her expression. "May I ask just what happened back there at the valley?"

Emily gazed at the man, her expression thoughtful but not particularly thrilled at the question.

Of course it was understandable, it was probably hard to think about for her, Gil knew. Maybe this wasn't even a good time to bring it up. But he didn't waver, and neither did she.

"You have a right to know," she finally replied, laying the two memorabilia down in her lap. Her eyes lowered to the fire, growing more and more distant by the second, again silent for several long moments.

"My mother was an Indian. I'm sure you gathered that much. She was supposed to marry the tribe's new chief... But she didn't like him. Didn't like the whole tribe, actually." She shook her head, snorting in contempt. "She ran away. Soon as it got dark one night, she hauled outta there and ran all night on foot." She brought her gaze away from the fire to meet the trail boss's eye. "She met dad several days out, comin' back from some business. Long story short, they ended up married 'n livin' in a little cabin in a valley."

The men listened, noon meal all forgotten about.

Emily had taken a pause, but soon continued.

"I guess maybe them Indians eventually found some other girl to marry off to their chief, and forgot all about mom... But some of 'em'll dig up any excuse to pick a fight." She lowered her eyes back to the ground, the scene playing over in her head all over again. "The braves, I guess you saw some of 'em layin' 'round the house back there, they were from a rogue band that broke away from the Sioux. Said momma was a traitor and a disgrace."

She looked back up to Gil, giving him a sad shrug. She didn't have to finish for them. Each of the men could guess what a rogue Indian would want to do with a "traitor", and a woman traitor, no less. It was a hard thing for anyone to think about, much less speak about. And it was because of this that, though he still had questions, she had given her story and he would not press her for any more. Not right now, at least.

"Boy, that's awful,"Rowdy shook his head in sympathy.

"Sure is, 'n we're sorry it happened," Jim added.

Emily raised her chin slightly. She could feel that the men meant what they had said. Though the pain of her loss was great, the support she had from these men had continually given her more strength than she or they would ever know.

"I'd be layin' right beside 'em if it weren't for you men," her voice, though strained, held hope and gratitude in it. She took this time to look at each of the faces around her. Though she had never men any of these men before three days ago, they were not so different from the group her father once had. The corners of her lips curled up slightly at the thought. "And I couldn't have asked for a better group 'o men to have run across me."

Rowdy broke into a large smile, but he quickly looked down in attempt to hide it. It was no secret to the other men that he held great pride in the fact that he had been the one to personally save her.

The food started getting passed out, and the usual bustle of meal time ensued. Each man was content, just as the girl was.

Afterwards, Emily waved each of the drovers off as they went to take their place back with the herd.

"Boy, I think for the first time, we're all gonna be sorry when we get to that town," Rowdy said as he rode away alongside the boss, still looking behind at the girl.

"Well, we still got 'bout seventeen days with her," Gil replied,"Either enjoy it while ya can or learn to be sick of her."

But Gil knew that the latter suggestion was very unlikely. He didn't know if he would have been able to take that advice himself, even if he had wanted to. Which he didn't.

He inwardly sighed to himself, hating it when he got into situations like this. There was nothing like a woman to make a man homesick.

But life goes on, and so must the cattle.

He made his way to the point of the herd, taking off his hat. He waved it forward, a signal his men were well acquainted with.

"Head 'em up, move 'em out!" His low voice carried through the air, falling like a melody upon a certain pair of ears.

* * *

 **This chapter concludes the first part of my _Gunner Valley_ series.**

 **I would like to thank each and every reader and reviewer for their support, my motivation would be running pretty low right about now if it were not for yall.**

 **Kayley: Ah, yes. Young Rowdy has quiet a ride ahead of him. I think you will enjoy the part he plays in this story.**

 **Pointrider: This is only the beginning, my friend! Things haven't even started getting crazy yet.**

 **Please be on the look out for the next in the series, which will be indicated as such.  
**

 **Until next time,**

 **~ TheNightRunner**


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